


Memories Of The Season

by Random_Nexus



Series: Watson's Woes WAdvent 2017 [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christian Holidays, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Prompt Fic, Watson's Woes, Watson's Woes WAdvent, Watson's Woes WAdvent 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 13:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/pseuds/Random_Nexus
Summary: Watson's having a nostalgic moment and Holmes indulges him in the spirit of the season.Written for the prompt:  "For those of you who'd prefer to create something particular for this day and would like a prompt, your prompt is: 'Lessons and carols.' Feel free to use however it strikes you." -Watson's Woes





	Memories Of The Season

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't see today's WAdvent prompt till late evening and decided to give it a try. It's a bit late to post for December 1st, but it's better than not posting, right? Bonus points for dictating about 90% of it using the speech to text program on my PC. I think it may have made my words a little stilted, compared to the usual, but it made for good practice and fluffy fun. In any case, there's some fic, hope you like.

Watson sat at his writing desk, pencil caught between his first and second fingers, watching the streets below through the frost –edged window. Chin in his palm, elbow resting next to his notebook, a dreamy smile curved his lips beneath his neatly trimmed moustache.

“Waxing nostalgic already, Watson?” asked a familiar voice from just behind him.

Brows lifting, Watson made a little sub-vocal sound of inquiry and tilted his head a very small margin, not even enough to fully lift his chin away from his palm.

One long fingered hand came to rest upon Watson’s left shoulder as Holmes leaned in to look through the window also, his cheek nearly touching Watson’s temple. “Ah, memories of your school days—no, it’s more to do with the season, I’d say, since you’re not usually one to reminisce about lessons and school yard games.”

Knowing Holmes had seen the school children running along the pavement below, laughing and calling boisterously to one another, Watson knew where the man had got at least some of his clues. He also knew that once upon a time he still would not have known how his dear friend could seem to read his mind, or come surprisingly close to it. Giving a soft laugh, Watson shook his head a little and reached up with his free hand to pat Holmes’ fingers where they rested upon his shoulder. “I swear, Holmes, it’s a good thing we live in modern times or I’d expect to attend a good old fashioned witch burning with you as the ‘guest of honour’ sooner or later.” He slid his fingers into the gaps between Holmes’ and let go a small sigh. “Actually, it’s a bit of both. I was just remembering how we used to run home after our lessons the week before Christmas, hurry through a quick meal, and then bundle up warm to go caroling.”

Holmes made a soft sound of acknowledgement, tightening his fingers upon Watson’s as he turned his head just enough to glance the briefest of kisses off of Watson’s cheekbone—they were in front of an open window, after all, though no one in view was looking up just then. “You and your brother?” he asked with quiet perception, again making use of clues garnered over the course of their friendship to reach an insightful conclusion.

“Only for a few years, while we were both still boys,” Watson replied with a slight nod. “Before things changed.”

With one more squeeze of his fingers, Holmes let go and moved away, though Watson remained where he was. He would get back to his notes in just a few more minutes, but his gaze lingered on the children in the street below.

Something soft landed on Watson’s shoulder, making him grab for it and turn away from the window, realizing he held the thick, woollen scarf Mrs. Hudson had given him the autumn before. He looked up to see Holmes had already wrapped his own similar scarf around his neck and was donning his suit coat.

“Come along, Watson,” Holmes said briskly. “There’s still a few days yet till Christmas, but I don’t imagine anyone would mind too much if a couple of gentlemen decided to take a stroll and share some seasonal cheer as evening approaches.”

Smile spreading wide, a warmth that was far more than nostalgic growing within him, Watson rose as he quickly flung the scarf around his neck and crossed to join Holmes in donning his outerwear. They held each other’s overcoats with humorous decorum and took up their hats and walking sticks, slipping on gloves and buttoning up on their way down the stairs.

Arm in arm they strolled about the streets of London, humming and occasionally even singing what Christmas carols they could both recall, in amongst sharing holiday stories and memories from their childhoods. Some while later, they took a pleasant supper at Simpson’s-on-the-Strand, lingering to chat upon a wide variety of subjects and create new memories for the future.


End file.
